


as the world ends

by SofieChappell



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst, Death, Introspection, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, OR IS IT, literally the angstiest thing i ever wrote and probably ever will, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 11:23:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13293825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SofieChappell/pseuds/SofieChappell
Summary: There isn't a day when Camille's words don't ring in Magnus' head.He worries. He worries all the time.But he can't admit that.





	as the world ends

**Author's Note:**

> I won't lie, this is nothing more than me working through my own issues on the topic, mostly because writing is cheaper than therapy.  
> One last warning: this fic deals with pretty dark and upsetting things. Proceed with caution.

_Too bad it won't last._

Magnus thinks about those words more often than he is ever willing to admit.

He tried to play them off later that day, smooth it out and soothe Alec’s worry. That’s what he does,  that’s what he’s good at: comforting the ones he loves so he is the one who has to bear the world on his shoulders.

He is used to it, so much so that it scares him sometimes when he lets himself dwell on that.

But he says nothing, does nothing, and pushes those thoughts deep, deep down where they fester while he lives in the moment.

 

xxx

 

He makes sure Alec knows to text him every time he finishes a mission.

He tries not to be too overt about how much he worries every time his love goes out on the streets of New York. Alec may have been excellent at tearing down his walls, but Magnus still doesn’t feel comfortable sharing this side of him. He doesn’t really know why. He doesn’t think Alec would mind, not really. He would probably consider it cute, or maybe even beautiful, as he did with so many ugly parts of Magnus.

Maybe it’s because they still didn’t address what Camille said that awful, awful day.

They skirt around the topic. No matter how much their experiences remind them over and over how important communication is, especially given all their circumstances, they still haven’t talked about it.

Sometimes it feels like the right moment. Peaceful evenings, when they had a great dinner and a make-out session on the couch. When they sit side by side on Magnus’ couch, or the bench on his roof terrace, or a pile of pillows somewhere on the floor. A half-finished glass of wine in hand, silence stretching between them comfortably. And Magnus is just about to say something, he even took his breath, when something happens. Alec remember another anecdote of Jace’s latest relationship drama. Chairman Meow jumps into either of their laps.

And so they never talk. It’s going to bite them in the ass one day, rational side of Magnus knows.

But his need to enjoy the bliss of Alec’s love is stronger than any arguments his reason can come up with.

 

xxx

 

No!

Nononononononononono.

This can’t be happening.

“Magnus, I’m so sorry.”

He wants to call on his magic, he wants to blow up the entire useless world.

Nothing comes up. Magic seems to be ignoring him, somehow. It has never happened before. He never heard of it happening.

This is fucking useless.

_He_ is fucking useless.

He watches Isabelle’s mouth move, but the sound that gets to him is muffled, distorted as if coming from underwater. He doesn’t understand the words, but it doesn’t matter. They aren’t true. They can’t be. _Lies_ , all lies.

She reaches out to him.

“No.”

She recoils immediately.

His magic may not be answering, but she doesn’t know that. Baseless fear is as good as anything when the addressee doesn’t know the difference.

He turns and leaves. He thinks she shouts something after him, at least that’s what she should do.

The magic is still gone.

But it doesn’t matter. His arms are just as strong and capable. He pushes and prods and punches and there are still no answers. They all laugh at him, right in his face. They know no fear. One after the other, he punishes them for he cannot punish the world. Not yet. But in the meantime, he has questions he needs to ask.

He doesn’t care what it takes, not anymore. He has to know. He needs to understand.

He needs to find the body.

NO!

He needs to find _Alexander_. There is no body since it’s all just a mistake. There will be no body and no grief and the universe will be right once again. He just has to try harder, he just has to—

“Magnus!”

He wakes up. He is shivering, and sweaty, and dazed. The room is dark and he is cold, the sheets all coiled up around him.

But he is in Alec’s arms. His strong, gentle arms, warm and most definitely alive. He stares at Magnus, worry oozing out of his eyes.

“Magnus, what is it?” His hand slides up and down Magnus’ arm, thumb pressing in soothing circles.

He wants to explain. He should, he owes it to Alec to explain why he is being woken up in the middle of the night by Magnus’ torturous dreams.

But he doesn’t think his throat would cooperate. It feels dry and constricted, and every breath is a struggle.

So instead, he leans close. He puts his head on Alec’s chest and presses hard. He makes sure his Alexander is here, alive and well. He takes in his smell and listenes to the beat of his heart. He claws at Alec’s sides, so hard it will leave marks, but it feels like the only thing that can ground him now.

The first sob makes him realize there are tears falling down his face. And as if the dam broke, he can’t stop. He sobs and he shivers and makes a mess of himself because this is the only thing he feels capable of doing now.

Alec holds him through it, ever so gentle and patient. He whispers comforting words and presses kisses onto Magnus’ forehead until he drift off back into slumber.

He doesn’t dream anymore that night. He is grateful for that.

 

xxx

 

He feels nauseous all day after that.

Alec hovers over him throughout the morning, but the beeps of his phone get too insistent and he has to leave before he starts pressing Magnus on about last night or that he has barely started his waffle or his coffee.

He keeps getting back to the dream over and over again. He tries to find reason behind it. He lived too long to try and see either divine or hellish messages behind dreams. He knows it’s just his brain trying to deal with _something_ , for _some reason_.

Normally, with dreams this intense, he can find it. He was worrying too much, or reading too much of something particular, stuff like that. But there is nothing in his life he can think of that could trigger this sort of response.

He worries about Alexander about as much as always. Which, granted, is a lot, but again, that’s _usual_. This has been his default state for over two years now. And it’s not like Alec is in a particularly dangerous spot right now. With his position and status the only thing that really threatens him are Raphael’s sarcastic remarks during the upcoming Cabinet meeting.

He calls off all his clients for a day and curls on his couch as some bland show plays on tv, if not to drown out his thoughts, then to at least provide some counterbalance.

He is fast asleep by the time Alec comes back home.

Somehow, they still don’t breach the topic.

 

xxx

 

He forgot about that dream for three years.

He grew comfortable and self-assured, so certain of their safety. He was so sure he would get it all that in the height of his hubris he started considering the possibilities of _their_ forever.

He doesn’t get more worried when Alec doesn’t text him for longer than he should. He became more and more comfortable with that over the years. It’s not that Alec doesn’t care - it’s that Shadowhunters missions rarely stick to the schedule, no matter how much is taken into account.

He isn’t particularly worried when Alec doesn’t show up for dinner, something he always does except for emergencies. He almost forgets about the dinner himself, completely lost in translating a fascinating ancient text for a client.

His heart sinks when he opens the door and sees Jace, bruised and battered, standing on his doorstep. There is no light in his eyes. He doesn’t need to speak before there is no light in Magnus’ eyes either.

 

xxx

 

He has been through hell, literally.

He doesn’t sink as low in real life as he had in his dreams, but it’s a close call. There are very few options for the living to get to the Underworld and even fewer for a living Downwolder trying to get to the Nephilim part of the afterlife.

It wasn’t easy, not any step on the way. But he is there, standing in front of ridiculously old-fashioned brick wall. It has a weak point, he was told. You’ll find it right on the opposite of the gate, he was told. There will be a discolored brick, the only greyish one in the sea of warm brown.

He has no idea how long he kept walking along that damn wall until he saw it. His legs are trembling and he barely trusts them to keep him upright.

He brings up his arms, gathering every ounce of strength his body still has.

But as he readies the spell, a crack appears. It’s miniscule, but so unexpected that Magnus is immediately aware of it.

The crack elongates, once, twice, then splits and after that it’s impossible to keep track of them all.

Magnus keeps his breath, steading himself for an unforeseen battle. He is tired and trembling, but there is nothing but his own death that will stop him from reaching Alexander.

The rumbles fall down with a crash and a cloud of dust. Magnus shield his eyes from the worst of it, but looks up as soon as possible, not wanting to lose a second of potential advantage.

The figure seems small compared to the structure. Their features are blurred from the dust still in the air and weirdly blinding light from behind of what used to be a wall.

Magnus’ hands are still up, magic still buzzing at the his fingertips, but he can’t bring himself to attack. This is stupid, he knows, but he can’t.

He strains his eyes to see who he has to fight. They move to drop an axe they hold until they notice Magnus. They bring up their guard, walking towards him in measured steps.

Magnus believes he is hallucinating when his minds first try to put the name to the face. It’s impossible, it _cannot_ be…

But then their steps seems to falter too, and he can see the face more clearly, and its expression of pure shock, and he starts to accept it.

He runs before he has time to consider whether or not it’s a trap or a trick meant to torment him even more.

They crash against each other with force that knocks the breath out of Magnus’ lungs. He claws at the man’s back, making sure it’s real. The man does that to Magnus in return.

Magnus feels dizzy when he pulls back enough to look him in the face. To look his _Alexander_ in the eye. It doesn’t feel real. When he started his insane quest, he didn’t think it would actually happen. He just wanted to die feeling like he was trying to do something rather than nothing.

He has so many questions. The ‘ _how’_ s, the ‘ _why’_ s. But Alexander’s smile is enough for him to put them all aside and just drink him in.

Alec puts his hand on Magnus’ jaw and caresses the cheek with his thumb, like he did countless times before. “You didn’t think I would leave you without putting up a fight, didn’t you?”

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd.  
> Follow me on tumblr @[sofiechappell](http://sofiechappell.tumblr.com).


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